their possessor for the common and ordinary enjoyments of life; and, by that too great niceness which they are apt to create, they may mingle somewhat of disgust and uneasiness even in the highest and finest pleasures. A person of such a mind will often miss happiness where Nature intended it should be found, and seek for it where it is not to be met with. Disgust and Chagrin will frequently be his companions, while less cultivated minds are enjoying pleasure unmixed and unalloyed.

I have ever considered my friend Charles Fleetwood to be a remarkable instance of such a character. Mr. Fleetwood has been endowed by nature with a most feeling and tender heart. Educated to no particular profession, his natural sensibility has been increased by a life of inactivity, chiefly employed in reading, and the study of the polite arts, which has given him that excess of refinement I have described above, that injures while it captivates.

Last summer I accompanied him in an excursion into the country. Our object was partly air and exercise, and partly to pay a visit to some of our friends.

Our first visit was to a college-acquaintance, remarkable for that old-fashioned hospitality which still prevails in some parts of the country, and which too often degenerates into excess. Unfortunately for us, we found with our friend a number of his jovial companions, whose object of entertainment. was very different from ours. Instead of wishing to enjoy the pleasures of the country, they expressed their satisfaction at the meeting of so many old acquaintance; because they said it would add to the mirth and sociableness of the party. Accordingly, after a long, and somewhat noisy, dinner, the table was covered with bottles and glasses; the mirth of the company rose higher at every new toast; and

though their drinking did not proceed quite the length of intoxication, the convivial festivity was drawn out, with very little intermission, till it was time to go to bed. Mr. Fleetwood's politeness prevented him from leaving the company; but I, who knew him, saw he was inwardly fretted at the manner in which his time was spent during a fine evening, in one of the most beautiful parts of the country. The mirth of the company, which was at least innocent, was lost upon him their jokes hardly produced a smile; or, if they did, it was a forced one : even the good humour of those around him, instead of awakening his benevolence, and giving him a philanthrophical pleasure, increased his chagrin; and the louder the company laughed, the graver did I think Mr. Fleetwood's countenance became.

After having remained here two days, our time being spent pretty much in the manner I have described, we went to the house of another gentleman in the neighbourhood. A natural soberness of mind, accompanied with a habit of industry, and great attention to the management of his farm, would save us, we knew, from any thing like riot or intemperance in his family. But even here I found Mr. Fleetwood not a whit more at his ease than in the last house. Our landlord's ideas of politeness made him think it would be want of respect to his guests if he did not give them constant attendance. Breakfast, therefore, was no sooner removed, than, as he wished to visit his farm, he proposed a walk: we set out accordingly; and our whole morning was spent in crossing dirty fields, leaping ditches and hedges, and hearing our landlord discourse on drilling and horse-hoeing; of broad-cast and summerfallow; of manuring, plowing, draining, &c. Mr. Fleetwood, who had scarcely ever read a theoretical book upon farming, and was totally ignorant of the

;

practice, was teazed to death with this conversation; and returned home covered with dirt, and worn out with fatigue. After dinner, the family œconomy did not allow the least approach to a debauch and, as our landlord had exhausted his utmost stock of knowledge and conversation in remarks upon his farm, while we were not at all desirous of repeating the entertainment of the morning, we passed a tasteless, lifeless, yawning afternoon; and, I believe, Mr. Fleetwood would have willingly exchanged the dulness of his present company, for the boisterous mirth

of the last he had been in.

Our next visit was to a gentleman of a liberal education, and elegant manners, who, in the earlier part of his life, had been much in the polite world. Here Mr. Fleetwood expected to find pleasure and enjoyment sufficient to atone for the disagreeable occurrences in his two former visits; but here, too, he was disappointed. Mr. Selby, for that was our friend's name, had been several years married: his family increasing, he had retired to the country; and, renouncing the bustle of the world, had given himself up to domestic enjoyments: his time and attention were devoted chiefly to the care of his children. The pleasure which himself felt in humouring all their little fancies, made him forget how troublesome that indulgence might be to others. The first morning we were at his house, when Mr. Fleetwood came into the parlour to breakfast, all the places at table were occupied by the children; it was necessary that one of them should be displaced to make room for him ; and, in the disturbance which this occasioned, a teacup was overturned, and scalded the finger of Mr. Selby's eldest daughter, a child about seven years old, whose whimpering and complaining attracted the whole attention during breakfast. That being over, the eldest boy came forward with a book in

his hand, and Mr. Selby asked Mr. Fleetwood to hear him read his lesson : Mrs. Selby joined in the request, though both looked as if they were rather conferring a favour on their guest. The eldest had no sooner finished, than the youngest boy presented himself; upon which his father observed, that it would be doing injustice to Will not to hear him, as well as his elder brother Jack; and in this way was my friend obliged to spend the morning, in performing the office of a schoolmaster to the children in

succession.

Mr. Fleetwood liked a game at whist, and promised himself a party in the evening free from interruption. Cards were accordingly proposed; but Mrs. Selby observed, that her little daughter, who still complained of her scalded finger, needed amusement as much as any of the company. In place of cards, Miss Harriet insisted on the game of the goose. Down to it we sat ; and to a stranger it would have been not unamusing to see Mr. Fleetwood, in his sorrowful countenance, at the royal and pleasant game of the goose, with a child of seven years old. It is unnecessary to dwell longer on particulars. During all the time we were at Mr. Selby's, the delighted parents were indulging their fondness, while Mr. Fleetwood was repining and fretting in secret.

Having finished our intended round of visits, we turned our course homewards, and, at the first inn on our road, were joined by one Mr. Johnson, with whom I was slightly acquainted. Politeness would not allow me to reject the offer of his company, especially as I knew him to be a good-natured inoffensive man. Our road lay through a glen, romantic and picturesque, which we reached soon after sun-set, in a mild and still evening. On each side were stupendous mountains; their height; the rude and projecting rocks, of which some of them were

composed; the gloomy caverns they seemed to contain; and the appearance of devastation, occasioned by traces of cataracts falling from their tops, presented to our view a scene truly sublime. Mr. Fleetwood felt an unusual elevation of spirit. His soul rose within him, and was swelled with that silent awe, so well suited to his contemplative mind. In the words of the poet, he could have said,

- Welcome, kindred glooms,

Congenial horrors, hail!'

Be these my theme,

These that exalt the soul to solemn thought,
And heavenly musing!'

Our silence had now continued for about a quar ter of an hour; and an unusual stillness prevailed around us, interrupted only by the tread of our horses, which, returning at stated intervals, assisted by the echo of the mountains, formed a hollow sound, which increased the solemnity of the scene. Mr. Johnson, tiring of this silence, and not having the least comprehension of its cause, all at once, and without warning, lifted up his voice, and began the song of Push about the Jorum.'

Mr.

Fleetwood's soul was then wound up to its utmost height. At the sound of Mr. Johnson's voice he started, and viewed him with a look of horror, mixed with contempt. During the rest of our journey, I could hardly prevail on my friend to be civil to him; and though he is, in every respect, a worthy and a good-natured man, and though Mr. Fleetwood and he have often met since, the former has never been able to look upon him without disgust.

Mr. Fleetwood's entertainment in this short tour has produced, in my mind, many reflections, in which I doubt not I shall be anticipated by my readers.